


Blackeye Week 2016 - That Drum Solo, Though

by 3amepiphany



Series: Blackeye Week 2016 [2]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: F/M, Minor Eye Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zbornaks are so endearingly clumsy sometimes. Sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackeye Week 2016 - That Drum Solo, Though

**Author's Note:**

> http://omegalovaniac.tumblr.com/post/143719278004/oh-pleaaasse-write-a-little-snippet-about-black
> 
> (This one is from a while back but I'm cheating and including it here because BLACKEYEEEEEEE)

“If you want, you can hit me back,” she said, bursting into laughter as she finished saying it, unable to control herself.

Peepers lay in her lap, a bag of ice over his whole face. He muttered something, and she did her best to stop so she could hear him, asking him to repeat himself a little louder. He pulled the ice away and said, carefully, through his swollen eyelids, “Sylvia, please.”

She waited. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“You said, ‘Sylvia, please.’ Please what?” she replied, and he grumbled and disappeared again under the ice pack. She laughed and pet at his arm consolingly. “I’m really sorry. I’m really very sorry. I didn’t know you were right behind me, and I’m so used to Wander ducking and dodging out of the way. I’m such an ungainly gal.”

She had elbowed him, and hard. And then she stepped on him as she turned to see what she’d hit. And then she knocked him over in the kitchen with her tail while they were asking the staff for a bag of ice… twice. Finally she gave up and put him on her back, in the saddle, and told him to just hold on to the reigns. They went back to his quarters, and he had to manually give her his entry key override code to put in because he obviously couldn’t use the retinal scanner.

“You can still fake the report,” she told him, sipping daintily at her glass of Baltruvian Rainwine and patting him again as he shook his head slowly. “Yeah, you can. Just tell them you had me so scared by your ruthless presence alone that I thought compliance was the best route. Wander will vouch. You know he will. He says thank you for letting him have his banjo, by the way.”

Off came the ice pack again. “Andy sees all, though. That we came here directly instead of through the back corridor of the Torture Rooms.”

“Then you say you were trying a different interrogation tactic.” Sylvia shifted a bit, suddenly inspired. He bent awkwardly, and whined. “You were submitting me to the worst torture I could possibly imagine - late-decade progressive rock. Ink Void, Yeah, Kanzas, that Terran guy - Peter Gabriel. That stuff is weird as vrell.”

“Don’t knock Peter Gabriel,” Peepers complained.

“Torture at the hands of the irredeemably cruel Commander and his assistants, Peter Gabriel, undercooked steak, and over-steamed vegetables. There were lit candles and I was afraid of being burned with molten wax. I told you everything I knew. It was all I could do.”

“You did that the last time you were here. Showed me, too.”

“Clear communication is the most important part of a healthy relationship.”

He groused and lay back down across her lap, shifting the ice pack so he could still talk to her. “It certainly made my night,” he said, and then asked her to hand him his own glass of wine, and to help him with the straw. He sighed quietly.

“You’re so sad.” She was on the verge of laughing raucously again.

“I can’t see. I’d say something stupid like ‘I think we need to up security on them overnight, Sir Lord Hater, I’m really close to breaking that Zbornak for everything she’s got,’ but I won’t be able to see much tomorrow night, either. This is lame.”

She shushed him and placed her hand over his, over the ice pack. “I’m sorry, honestly. We’ll escape and be back in your clutches soon enough. Let’s just enjoy this awful slow jam and it’s ridiculous drum solo, finish the wine, and try not to worry so much about what you can and can’t see,” she said demurely.

They decided to call it quits and just take her back to the holding cells after she’d kneed him in the side, causing him to smash a shoulder into the headboard and roll off the edge of the bed.


End file.
